


Harry Potter's Ticklish Weakness

by TheMadKingTargaryen



Series: Ticklish Hijinx at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Bullying, Dungeons, Feet, M/M, Male - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Revenge, Stocks, Tickle torture, Ticklish Draco Malfoy, Torture, barefoot, tickle, ticklish, ticklish Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKingTargaryen/pseuds/TheMadKingTargaryen
Summary: Harry, suspicious of Malfoy as always, unwittingly follows his nemesis into a trap. An unconventional, sly, humiliating trap. The boy who lived is in for a wild ride.Set sometime during The Half-Blood Prince. Potential spoilers for all books before and including this one. Harry is 16.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Ticklish Hijinx at Hogwarts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673878
Kudos: 27





	1. Stupid Gryffindor

Draco was acting suspicious. Again. Sneaking around, slinking down deserted corridors when everyone else was in the great hall or dead asleep. It made Harry's blood boil. He knew the blonde pureblood was up to something...he just didn't know what.

He stood on the seventh floor, tucked into an alcove next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, safely invisible under his cloak. He'd stalked Draco all the way to the entrance of the Room of Requirement but daren't enter it when Malfoy did for fear of exposing himself. So he waited. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and still the wall opposite the tapestry remained blank.

Then, just when Harry was preparing to abort his mission, the gigantic doors of the room made themselves known, looking as if they were growing from the stone itself. Harry held his breath as his nemesis stepped out of them, his slicked back hair glimmering in the lantern light. A smirk graced his countenance, as if something had pleased him greatly.

He turned to walk down the corridor and Harry followed suit, accidentally brushing against the hanging tapestry as he passed, making it sway slightly, the wooden rod weighing it at the bottom lightly tapping the stone wall.

Harry froze as Draco whipped around, a paranoid look in his eyes. When he saw the sway of the tapestry he frowned and Harry knew he was screwed.

"Damn draughts. This castle is a shambles." He mumbled and his continued his journey onward.

Harry nearly fainted in relief.

The boy who lived continued his pursuit, cursing himself for being so careless. What if Draco had realised it was him? That would have been bad.

-

Stupid Gryffindor Draco thought, forcing himself to keep a straight face. After leaving the Room of Requirement with yet another successful test of the Vanishing Cabinet his internal celebrations were interrupted by the tapping of a tapestry against the wall. Thinking on his feet he feigned annoyance at the draughty castle and carried on. He knew it was Potter. It was blindingly obvious.

Malfoy had been plunged into an unexpected but entirely welcome situation: he could lead Harry Potter wherever he wanted. Devilish ideas flooded his mind, limitless possibilities stretching out before him. He could get the teacher's pet into a sticky situation with said teachers...but the lad could get away with anything, so that was null. He could hurt him, have him injured badly so he was out of action for months...but that would put a frog in the stew. If the injuries were traced back to Malfoy the whole plan would be jeopardised. No, he needed something harmless but something that would very much send a message.

The idea struck him just as he was passing professor Flitwick's empty classroom, glimpsing some feathers lying on the desks, the ones used for practising the levitation spell. Malfoy let himself grin with the ingenuity of his plan; he would just have to hope Potter didn't see his glee and grow suspicious.

Still supporting his impish smirk he set his destination. Draco Malfoy, with his adversary trailing behind him, began his descent into the dark depths of Hogwarts' dungeons.


	2. Clever Slytherin

Harry trailed as silently as he could, minding his step as he crept down the steep flights of stairs leading to the dungeons. Snoozing paintings become more few and far between the deeper beneath the castle the two boys tread, which Harry found oddly sinister. It was as if the paintings themselves disliked the dark, cool, damp stone of the Slytherins' domain.

Harry was prepared to turn around and report back to Ron and Hermione, who thought he was tucked up in bed with a head cold, when he was sure that Draco was merely returning to the Slytherin Common Room, but he was forced to continue when Malfoy turned left instead of right, away from the Common Room.

-

Draco led Harry down an especially dark and secluded section of the dungeons, finally slowing and turning into a disused potions room. Leaving the door wide open he whispered the spell and surreptitiously laid a small puddle of water at the entrance, then swept deeper into the pitch black room.

-

Finally, Harry thought. He had been following Draco for what felt like hours. This better tell me something about his damn plan.

Waiting a few moments he peeked through the doorway but whatever lay beyond it was as dark as the corridor.

Deciding to take the risk he stepped into the room, splashing a puddle of water that was almost invisible in the gloom.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell hit him like a cannonball and his wand was torn from his hand.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Before he could even react to the first this second spell landed on target and his whole body seized up like he was turning to stone. He collapsed backwards like a falling statue, only able to move his eyes and make unintelligible grunting noises.

Draco stalked up to him from the darkness, tugging away the invisibility cloak, revealing Harry's frozen form. He flicked his wand and the lanterns on the wall burst to life. The door also slammed shut and locked tight.

"Well if it isn't Harry Potter. What were you doing down here, Chosen One?" Harry could just grunt. "No matter. It's a delightful coincidence that we bumped into each other, I was just going to investigate a new technique."

Technique?

"A new way of drawing information from people. Veritas serum is useful of course, but it's hard to make, as you know, and Professor Snape does not appreciate constantly being asked to make it. He is a very busy man." Draco flicked his wand, muttering, and Harry started floating off the ground, into the middle of the room where he levitated at table height.

The slender lad pulled Harry's stiff limbs outward so he was floating in a spread eagle position. "Incarcerous." Thick ropes darted out of thin air from the ceiling and grabbed Harry by the wrists and ankles, stretching him even further into the position. Another rope shot from the ceiling and wrapped around his waist, supporting his body; he would probably stay in the air even without 'Wingardium Leviosa'. Then Draco removed the both his spells. Harry's muscles grew limp and he found his voice.

"Damn you Draco, you bloody rat! Untie me and duel me like a wizard!"

"I'm sure you won't be so cocky after I've had my way with you." Draco sneered, a frightening look in his eyes.

For the first time in a while true fear filled Harry. He was down in the dungeons, strung up like game animal in the dead of night with his sadistic enemy free to do whatever he wanted to him. Even Ron and Hermione wouldn't come looking for him; he had told them in the great hall that he felt ill and had gone to bed, even drawing the curtains of his bed like an idiot.

"You are a COWARD!" Harry shouted through the dread.

"Now now, Potter, no need to tire yourself out. You'll be plenty tired before the night is out." He circled the dangling lad, delighting in his own ingenuity. He poked Harry in the side, making him tense and flinch slightly. "Ticklish, Potter? You don't need to answer that, I know for a fact that you are. I've seen how those Weasley brats tease you. So, as I was leading you down here from the Room of Requirement, I decided I was going to use your little...flaw...to torture the bravery out of you."

Harry was at a loss for words. "W-what? No...no...please, Draco this is too far, even for you."

"Who's the coward now, Potter?" The venom in Draco's words was palpable.

No further words were exchanged. Draco dug his spindly fingers into Harry's armpits through his robes, the black haired lad instantly tensing and swaying in the ropes, a cackle escaping his lips.

"Laughter already? This is going to be fun." Draco taunted. "These robes are very much in my way, however."

"No...no!" Harry protested.

Draco flicked his wand and his long black robes vanished. Another swish and Harry's shirt evaporated, leaving him bare chested in his trousers and shoes, the cool dungeon air sending goosebumps over his skin.

"Perfect." Draco mused, slipping his wand back into his pocket. Again his long fingers entered Harry's armpits, this time with unlimited access to every inch of his pale flesh. They wiggled tauntingly for a few moments before raking themselves along the skin of his hollows, making their owner clamp his mouth shut against the agonising sensation. Harry's attempt at silence was quickly thwarted by the increase in speed and pressure of Draco's spindly digits, and he broke into gasps and giggles that pleased his captor greatly.

After ten straight minutes of this treatment, Harry was red in the face and was beginning to lose his breath. "You're sick! Do you know that?"

"Everything's relative, I suppose. You think I'm sick for doing this to you, whereas I think I'm a genius. Are you getting bored of this particular spot, is that what it is? Let's move on then."

Draco picked up a discarded quill from one of the desks. "This won't do." He tutted, transfiguring it. The quill shifted and twisted, extending and becoming more fluffy. When he was finished he brandished a devilishly long feather with a long, pointed tip and a wide, fluffy body.

Harry gulped at the sight of it. In this context it was one of the most frightening things he had ever laid eyes upon.

Draco twirled the tip into Harry's nostril, one of the weirdest feelings ever bombarding Harry's senses. It tickled, but not in a way that made him want to laugh...in a way that made him want to hex his own nose off. He sneezed violently, shuddering at the relief brought about by the removal of the feather.

"Draco you rat, get off me! You are dragon food when I get out of here!"

A gag wound it's way round Harry's head, silencing him. "Enough, Potter, you are starting to give me a headache. Just relax and accept your fate. Who knows, maybe just letting it happen with make it feel less like torture. Probably not...but who knows?" The smirk that Malfoy sported made Harry want to punch him straight in the face.

The white feather trailed its way down Harry's neck, brushing the vulnerable flesh like a soft kiss. It's dastardly tip teased the nipples (Harry's grunts got ever so slightly higher) before gliding its way down to Harry's navel. There Draco ceased the movement, and Harry's breath hitched. Slowly, slower than Harry could have ever imagined the feather began to circle the rim of his belly button making Harry leap in his restraints. For such a small movement it sure packed a punch: it was like someone was electrocuting him.

"Mmmmmmppppphhhhhmmmmpphhhhh!"

"Shhhh, I can't understand you so you might as well shut up."

Draco worked with concentration of a painter, every stroke of the feather designed to bring maximum sensation.

Around and around the feather went, dipping into the navel every once in a while making Harry jump with muffled laughter.

Harry couldn't even tell how long the feather had been torturing him but when it finally lifted from his upper body he sighed in relief.

Draco ripped the cloth gag from Harry's mouth. "Water?"

Feeling disgusted with himself, Harry nodded.

"Aguamenti." Water spurted from the tip of Draco's wand and Harry lapped it up like Hagrid's Bloodhound, grateful for the refreshment despite himself.

"RICTUMSEMPRA!" Draco yelled, not moments later, pointing his wand at his chest.

Harry threw his head back and positively shrieked with uncontrollable laughter.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

The spell was different from real tickling, but it definitely had the same effect. The silver jet hit his chest, absorbing into the skin and setting his nerves alight with pure ticklishness, spreading up to his armpits and down to his navel; everything was being tickled at once and, if he was being honest, Harry would have done anything to be released at that moment.

Due to the pure intensity of the spell, Harry was sure that Draco would have even a smidge of mercy and cut this particular torture short, but he had severely underestimated his adversary's cruelty. Harry howled until he was hoarse, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest. When it finally eased Harry nearly wept with relief.

"Poor baby Potter can't take a bit of tickling."

"If...you...were...in my place...you'd have cracked...ages ago." Harry panted.

"I may be dreadfully, horribly, torturously ticklish, Potter," Draco emphasised every last syllable, "but that's nothing compared to how sensitive you are."

"I'm bored with your upper body, where else are you ticklish?" Draco leant forward for an answer he knew wasn't coming. "Are your feet ticklish, Potter? Have you got tickly feet? Shall I strip them bare and have my way with them? Shall I make you beg for mercy as I tease your little piggies?" Harry flinched at the threat he knew was a promise.

Draco straightened up and walked around to where Harry's legs were spread, shiny black dress shoes glinting in the lantern light.

He grinned. "Sounds like a plan."


	3. Clever Gryffindor

One swish of Draco's wand and Harry's shoes unlaced and flew off his feet.

"Get away! Not my feet, Draco you snake!"

"Quiet, Potter."

A single spindly finger was placed in the centre of Harry's right foot and his breath hitched. Even stationary the feeling was intense, the mild pressure exiting the nerves of his sole. The finger moved, gently at first, sliding down and then up Harry's sole, making the restrained wizard try to yank his foot out of Draco's reach.

The feet were Harry's most sensitive spot and the Weasley twins made sure of exploiting his weakness as much as possible. 'To keep him on his toes' they said. He almost wished it was them who was tickling him; at least they would have had an ounce of mercy. Well...maybe not if Harry has annoyed them enough...

Another finger was added to the socked sole, then another, and another, then four more on his other sole, scraping and spidering all over his ridiculously sensitive feet.

"Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahanoooooooooooooppppllllleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssseeeeeeeehahahahahahahahahahahaimbeheheheheheheheggggingyouuuuuuuuuahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!"

Draco revelled in the torturous mirth that he was forcing upon his nemesis. Harry's maniacal cackling was sweeter that the softest lullaby, his begging music to Malfoy's ears. It made his heart soar. It implored him to continue...so he obliged. A moments respite was granted within which Harry gulped in air, ruddy faced and sweating, more drained than he had been in ages. In the momentary break, however, Draco grabbed the elastic rim of Harry's damp socks and tugged them off, revealing his smooth, devilishly ticklish and ghostly pale bare feet.

"No! Not my socks!"

"Too late, Potter. My my my, these feet are just begging to be tortured, begging for my feather...who am I to deny them what they want?" First Draco dragged his blunt nails ruthlessly down the naked soles and Harry out right screamed. Again and again and again Draco raked down the pale flesh, Harry reflexively yanking his feet back as far as was allowed by the ropes...but they could never truly escape Malfoy's wrath. Being tickled with socks on had felt like a dream compared to this. The slightly cool fingers knew exactly how to torment every inch of his skin: the pads, the base of his toes, the heel and, Harry's worst spot, the arch. Every time Draco focused his attention on the smooth curve of skin Harry screamed for mercy. He didn't even care about how much of a coward he looked like anymore, he wanted out.

"Drahahahahahahacohohohohohohohohohohopllleeeeahahahahahahahahahahahahahsseeeeeeeeeeeee! Stohohohohohohohohhopppp!

No breaks came, not even any slight pauses within which Harry could catch his breath. Draco was relentless.

From regular finger tickling he picked up his feather, while still tickling one sole, and performed the Gemino charm, duplicating the fluffy torture device.

The feeling of those feathers stroking their way across his soles was one of the most extreme things to happen to him this whole night. Their shape was such that it's long thin tip could droop through the gaps between his big and first toes while it's wide body, with thousands of soft fibres, could span the whole width of his foot. Dragging them down Harry's foot was like yanking the pull cord of a lawn mower: a very loud noise always followed.

"No no no no please no-ahahahahahahahah!" Repeat.  
"No no no no no-ahahahahahahahah!" Repeat.

At the start of this experience, buried deep beneath the dread, Harry had had a small glimmer of hope that, if nothing else, this experience would be cathartic: laughing uncontrollably, shaking. Maybe it would relieve some of the stress caused by the upcoming N.E.W.Ts. Now he cursed his past self for giving him false hope. It was torture. The way Draco toyed with his nerves, both mental and physical, it was horrendous. He felt like a marionette puppet, and not because of the ropes attached to his limbs.

How long had passed? It was nearly impossible to tell. Tickling was all Harry experienced; time keeping took a backseat when you were in such a predicament. It had definitely been hours, but how many Harry couldn't possibly discern.  
All he knew was that the feather treatment lasted entirely too long. His face and chest dripped with perspiration, his muscles could barely resist anymore. In fact, his feet had remained motionless for the last portion of the tickling, and he didn't even care that it made it easier to his captor to tickle them: he needed to save his energy for the laughter.

When, finally, the feathers lifted Harry knew it wasn't over. He had learned by now; Draco Malfoy had no mercy. Even if you though he had done his worst, he always had another trick.

Muttering again, and flicking his wand, Draco removed the ropes from Harry's legs, put the appendages together so his ankles were touching and summoned new ropes to hold them together, so Harry was now dangling in a Y shape.

The pureblood stood so he was facing the bottoms of Harry's feet, where he had a perfect view of the Gryffindor's wondrously exposed body.

"You see, Potter," he raised his wand, lining it up, "I just needed to get the perfect angle."

Harry didn't have the energy to respond.

"RICTUMSEMPRA!" Draco yelled, a glimmering jet of silver exploding from his wand, part of it hitting his bare feet and part of it carrying on past to strike directly onto Harry's chest.

The volume at which Harry screamed almost made Draco cover his ears. It was just like the earlier chest tickling, but this time the spell also soaked into his naked soles and lit the nerves on fire in a continuous explosion of tickling. It was unbearable. Draco had devised one of the most evil ways of ticking someone Harry could fathom. It was like being water boarded with tickling.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Harry couldn't even beg through the laughter, not that begging would have done any good. Draco was enjoying this too much.

Then Harry had an idea, one he should have thought of earlier. It might not work, but it was worth a shot; anything was worth a shot to escape this nightmare. The ruthless bombardment of the senses had been making Harry breathless for ages and the lack of breaks had made it even harder to catch his breath. With a burst of energy he clamped his mouth shut through the laughter, making it even more difficult for enough oxygen to get into his lungs and keep him in the hell of consciousness.

A few seconds later he tumbled into the protection of unconsciousness, muscles going limp.

He missed Draco cursing at the top of his lungs.


	4. Stupid Slytherin

Harry returned to the waking world in the library, his head resting, rather uncomfortably, on a stack of books. He was still barefoot, his socks and shoes scattered next to him, but his shirt and robes had thankfully been returned. His invisibility cloak was lying in a silvery heap.

Draco had obviously thought that the library was a suitably hidden place to dump the exhausted boy, the rows and rows of bookshelves hiding him from the prying eyes of Mr Filch. Presumably Draco also thought that Harry would keep his mouth shut about the whole ordeal.

He was right. It was bloody embarrassing.

It was still the dead of night (Harry had only begun following Draco in the early evening) and he didn't want to risk making a ruckus by waking the Fat Lady, so he decided he was going to loiter in the library until dawn.

An idea hit him as he tugged on his socks and shoes. What had Draco let slip when he was taunting him? 'I may be dreadfully, horribly, torturously ticklish, Potter...'

Harry, tired of laughing as he was, let out a cackle of joy. That moron had been so wrapped up in his sadism that he had let slip a big weakness for the sake of a petty jab. And now Harry was stuck in an extensive library all night...the perfect place to research and practise all sorts of tickle hexes and jinxes.

"Stupid Slytherin." He said.


End file.
